To Have Loved and Lost
by Steadfast-Bright-Star
Summary: Human AU. Arthur is a bereavement counsellor, whose most difficult job comes in the form of Gilbert, whose boyfriend Matthew has recently died in an accident for which Gilbert blames himself. As the two become closer, Arthur is reminded of the painful reason why he first became a counsellor. Rated T for upsetting stuff. Pairings: Eventual PrUK, former PruCan, former USUK.
1. Chapter 1

To Have Loved and Lost

Chapter 1

Arthur was a bereavement counsellor. He found the job rewarding and fulfilling, but not everyone understood. For every person who admired him for doing such a difficult but necessary job, there were many others who lapsed into awkward silence when he introduced himself, who muttered something about him having a 'noble vocation' before excusing themselves to engage in a more cheerful conversation. Today, he was celebrating his first full year since qualifying. It was a bittersweet celebration, for although he was proud of this achievement, it inevitably reminded him of why he had changed from being a librarian in the first place.

'_Dammit, Alfred, why did you have to be a hero?_'He thought this to himself, the same thing he had thought every day for two years. A tear rose and spread across his left eye, obscuring the vision there. He cursed and dashed it away with his sleeve. He saw enough other people crying in his line of work without adding his own to the mix. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, then began to set up his notepad and pens in preparation for the day's work. He emptied his mind, concentrating on the dull task at hand. As he was doing so, his secretary, Katyusha, popped her head around his office door. 'Morning, Arthur!' said the chirpy Ukrainian. 'I made you a little treat to mark your first year!' She came into the room and deposited a plastic tub of cupcakes on his desk. Each one was individually iced in a different colour but they all had a golden number '1' piped on the top. Arthur was overwhelmed. He couldn't remember the last time someone had baked for him. No, that wasn't quite right. He could…

'_Dude, what are you doing? No peeking until it's ready!' 'Alfred, you'd better not have trashed the kitchen!' 'Don't be rude, man! Ok, here goes: Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Arthur…'_

No, no, stop it! He mustn't think of that, not now, not when Katyusha had been so kind. 'Thank you Katyusha – they look amazing. I hope you kept one for yourself.' She smiled at him 'Oh yes, I had one, Natalya had one, Ivan had three and he took an extra. He said it was for Yao but I bet he ate it himself on the way home!' She gave a fond little laugh at the thought of her brother. 'Oh but look at the time! I'd best get back to my post!'

She went back to the little anteroom where she had her desk, leaving Arthur to continue setting up for his first patient of the day. About fifteen minutes after she left, he heard the door beeping softly as someone was admitted, then muffled voices as they talked to Katyusha. Arthur sat up a little straighter in his chair and put on his welcoming face. The door to his office opened, and he found his welcoming face slipping slightly as he surveyed his patient. The young man had a shock of white hair, bleached-looking skin and bright red eyes. Arthur quickly adjusted his smile in time to meet the man's eyes.

'Hello, Gilbert. I'm Arthur Kirkland, but you can call me Arthur. We use first names around here – I find that it makes everything a bit more relaxed.' Gilbert nodded mutely in response. Arthur carried on 'Did you read the email I sent you?' Another nod. 'And have you brought the special object like I asked?' Wordlessly, the albino reached into a small black satchel and retrieved a white cuddly polar bear, setting it on the desk, then looking up at Arthur, awaiting further direction. 'Ok Gilbert, the method we use around here is that we talk about the object, which meant something to the person you've lost, and use it as a starting point to explore the issues that you're struggling with.' Gilbert looked down, wringing his hands. Finally, he spoke:

'This is Kumajirou. He belonged to my boyfriend Matthew who died three months ago and it was my fault that he died and that's all you need to know about my object.' He lapsed into obstinate silence and looked at Arthur again. Arthur, unused to such intransigence, approached the subject delicately. 'Gilbert… When you say it was your fault… What do you mean?' Gilbert burst into sudden violent tears. 'We were at my friend Antonio's party and Matthew was always pretty shy and quiet so I used to play this game with him where I pretended I didn't know who he was, because he was always quiet. So anyway, we met these people at the party. Well, I met them first because Matthew was getting drinks for us and when he came back I thought I'd play a little trick. I said 'Who are you?' – Just for a laugh, see, nothing major and he laughed a bit and he explained to the people that it was our little game, but I kept on doing it. I kept pretending I'd never met him before, until the people were so embarrassed and awkward that they just walked off without saying anything.'

'When it was time to leave, we got into the car and straightaway he started having a go at me. He said 'I was so embarrassed earlier. You know I'm not good in social situations and then you do something like that to me. You may think you're pretty awesome, but you're not really. Sometimes, you're just childish and nasty.' And every single thing he said was true, but I was angry, even though I had no right to be. I shouted back, saying how if he wasn't so pathetically shy he'd be a bit better in 'social situations'. I was distracted. I was still shouting at him when we crashed into the wall. I wasn't badly hurt, but I couldn't move because of the way the car was all crumpled. I could still grab his hand, so I just held on tight. I told him I loved him, that he was amazing, that I didn't mean any of the terrible things I said. I don't think he heard any of it though. I think he died thinking I hated him. I passed out after that, and the first thing they told me when I woke up was that Matthew didn't make it. So I killed him, and I've felt like a murderer every day since then.'

Arthur, who had been making copious notes during Gilbert's speech, was silent for a moment, digesting the new information. He tried to speak in a calm tone of voice, even though he was shocked by the revelation. 'Gilbert, if it's too painful for you, you can put Kumajirou away now. I think that the main issue we need to resolve is the fact you blame yourself. What happened was an accident. Maybe you were a little distracted, but it could have happened to anyone, and you certainly didn't mean it to happen.' Gilbert stopped sniffling for a moment. 'Have you ever lost someone, someone you truly loved?

'_I'm so sorry, Arthur, it couldn't have happened to nicer people.' No, no how can he be dead? Why did he have to be so brave, so amazing? Why did he have to be a hero?'_

'Yes, I have,' Arthur replied, trying to keep his voice steady. 'But that's a conversation we'll have another time. I'm here to help you, not discuss my own problems. It was very brave of you to share your whole story like that, considering it's only our first meeting. I'm confident that you'll make a full recovery.' He paused, waiting for Gilbert to finish carefully placing Kumajirou back in the bag. 'Is there anything else you'd like to say to me before we end our session?' Gilbert shook his head. 'Ok then,' said Arthur 'I'll see you same time next week then. Goodbye.' The albino didn't reply, and walked out of the room without a backward glance. The door beeped as he left, and Arthur turned his attention to his notes. Katyusha peered around the door again. 'I thought you were having the full hour,' she said, somewhat confused. Arthur sighed, running his fingers through his floppy blonde hair. 'That was the plan, yes, but he went from silent to hysterical to silent again, and you can't do much with them when they're in that state, so I let him go. He's got a murder complex too. It's always hard when they blame themselves. 'What happened?' she asked. 'The usual,' he answered. 'Couple arguing in the car, not concentrating on the road, there's an accident.' 'Ah.' She left, shutting the door softly.

Arthur opened up a Word document and began to transcribe to notes from the session. He had a feeling that Gilbert Beilschmidt would be taking up an awful lot of his time.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur rummaged in his bag, swearing to himself as he searched for his keys. He was always losing them, and really didn't need the stress after such a long day. After Gilbert, his patients had been fairly manageable – there were no more new ones, and most were doing very well. Nevertheless, he was always tired after hours of seeing people at their most vulnerable, in the depths of their misery, crying at the slightest provocation. He often commented that the issue was worsened by the fact that people were so reticent to talk about death, that they felt like they had to pretend that nothing was wrong. 'Aha! There you are!' he exclaimed in satisfaction as his fingers clasped his keyring with the little green bunny on it. He inserted the key into the door of his flat, heaving a great sigh of relief as he went in. He made a cup of tea – always the first thing he did after work (Katyusha tried, bless her, but she just couldn't make it quite right) – and flung himself down on the squishy sofa. It was an awful colour, but wonderfully comfortable.

'_Dude, come on! It's so soft! Perfect for snuggling on!' 'Alfred, please don't say things like that in public. And it looks terrible – it clashes with the walls and we'll have to move everything to make room for it.' 'Oh pleeeeeeeeeeease! Try it – you'll love it!' 'Alright then, but only because I know you won't take anything else.'_

Arthur scrunched up his eyes at the memory. He was angry with himself. How could he have the nerve to tell people they needed to 'get over their loss' when he had barely even begun to get over his own? He slapped himself hard around the face. 'Get a grip,' he muttered 'there's nothing to be gained thinking about the past'. He flicked on the TV and lost himself in a mindless American drama, refusing to dwell on what had gone before a moment longer. In a while, he'd open his laptop and look over the day's work, but for now all he wanted to do was stop thinking about anything. He knew that within a few minutes he'd fall asleep, then wake up an hour or so later with his face wet with tears he didn't remember shedding.

True to form, when he managed to rouse himself, the cushions were damp and his vision smudged by tears. The TV was playing an advert for short-term loans. He picked up the control, switched the TV off and went into his small kitchen. He sat down at the small table, flipped his laptop open and paused to gather his thoughts. 'Right,' he muttered 'Gilbert Beilschmidt. What to say about him?' He hesitantly began typing, pausing to consult the list of information that the albino had emailed him on request. Name, he knew; age 25, same as Arthur _same as Alfred would have been_… No, no stop that! Arthur slapped himself again and resumed reading: family: one brother, two years younger, working in a gym; a little yellow bird as a pet. Gilbert's own occupation was listed as 'holiday planner'. His interests were fairly conventional: music, video games, partying… nature walks? 'Well, he does have a bird, I suppose.' Arthur thought. He tapped a stray pencil against his teeth, seeking inspiration. He eventually put down that Gilbert seemed to be suffering more from his guilt than the loss itself, but he knew from experience that the bereavement would hit with full force once he got over the idea that he was to blame. He wrote that he seemed unpredictable – stonily silent one moment, but pouring his heart out with only a little urging on Arthur's part. He decided that he would need to get to know him a bit better before forming any solid judgements. Pleased to be done with work for the day, he saved his documents, logged on the Internet and began to browse YouTube, looking for a quick laugh to cheer him up after his emotionally exhausting day.

…

One Week Later…

Arthur woke at the irritating sound of his alarm – just the standard beep, no ridiculous rock guitar noise or anything like that – and sat up in his too-wide bed, rubbing the sleep from his green eyes. He was unable to stop himself from looking over at the other side, the cool, empty one that hadn't been slept in in so long. He knew he could stretch out at night if he wanted, but it didn't seem quite right. He stayed on his own side. With a bittersweet smile, he allowed himself to remember Alfred for a moment, just one happy moment that he hoped would last him all day, so that the memories didn't keep sneaking up on him when he wasn't expecting, like they had done all last week. When they had first moved in together, they would always have little arguments about the fact that one or other of them invariably stole all the bedclothes, leaving the unlucky one to shiver – Alfred in particular, since he insisted on wearing nothing but his boxers, even though Arthur had personally bought him pyjamas. In the end, they bought two single duvets so that there would be no more territorial disputes. Laughing a little to himself, Arthur surfaced from his reverie and got up to prepare for the day.

Arriving at his office, he suddenly remembered that today was his second meeting with Gilbert. He squared his shoulders, determined to make it run a little more smoothly that the previous one. Katyusha looked up as he entered. 'Is it that German guy first? The one with the white hair?' she asked. Arthur nodded. 'Poor thing,' she murmured, more to herself than to him. 'He seemed so fragile.' Arthur rolled his eyes. She was far too sensitive to be doing this job. She often remarked that she felt heartless making people fill out forms before they could go in, watching them trying to keep their social faces plastered on, even though they were suffering inside. He walked past her desk into his office and set up his stationery like he did every day. At precisely 9:30am, he heard the door beep, then the rustle of paper and the sound of voices. Gilbert had arrived.

He walked into the room and sat down, waiting for Arthur to initiate the conversation. 'Hello Gilbert – how have you been this week?' To Arthur's surprise, he gave a wan smile. 'It's been hard, like always, and I still blame myself. I think I always will, to be honest.' His head jerked up suddenly, as if he had just remembered something. 'Oh, and sorry about being so… weird last week. No offence, but I really didn't want to be here. My brother made me get counselling. He said I couldn't deal with all this stuff myself.'

Arthur was glad that Gilbert had opened up a bit, but he knew he had to be careful – any attempt to probe the wound too deeply and he could clam up again. 'Your brother was right, Gilbert, so I hope you find that our time together is useful to you. Have you brought Kumajirou with you again?' Gilbert blushed. 'Well, I kind of… carry him around with me all the time. Is that normal?' He extracted the bear and placed it lovingly on the table. Arthur decided not to answer the question. 'So, today we're going to do what I had planned for last week. Would you like to tell me a little bit about the bear?' Gilbert looked down nervously, but, to Arthur's relief, began to speak. 'Ok, so this is going to sound really stupid and… un-awesome, but I won it in one of those grabber machines.' Arthur raised a bushy eyebrow, signalling to him to go on. 'We were at the seaside together. We were walking along the pier, when Matthew pointed it out to me. I could tell he really wanted it, so I said I'd win it for him. Well, you know what those machines are like. It took me 20 minutes and I ended up spending £30, but eventually I got it out. There were a load of people watching me towards the end, and they all cheered when I finally got it and handed it over to Matthew.' Arthur couldn't help but laugh. 'That's a sweet story.' he said, a little sadly, unable to stop remembering.

'_Hey, Arthur, look what I won in the arcade!' 'What on Earth are you going to do with a toy phone?' 'It's not the prize that counts – it's the winning!' 'Well, at least you didn't spend too much on it. You know these games are just a scam.'_

They talked a bit more about Gilbert and Matthew's relationship, and Arthur noted that the outgoing, confident Gilbert had been very protective of his timid boyfriend but also always trying to impress him and make him laugh. _He has to be around people to be happy. He has to be appreciated, _Arthur scribbled in his little book _so this loss has hit him very hard. He's lonely. He needs someone he can love. _They sound like they were such a sweet couple, Arthur thought sadly. He looked up from his notes. Gilbert had fallen silent, and Arthur realised there were tears pouring down his face. He quickly proffered one of the tissues that he kept on his desk for the purpose and tactfully said nothing while the albino recovered himself. 'Thanks,' he said, then peered at his watch 'Oh! I'd better be going – Ludwig's due to pick me up now. Knowing him, he's probably already been here for ten minutes.' He got up to leave. 'Well, see you next week!' 'Um… Gilbert, could you just wait a second?' 'Yes?' Arthur swallowed, not knowing why he was nervous. 'Um… If possible, could I maybe have a little talk with your brother? Could you maybe give him a quick call and ask him to come up? Just for a minute.' Gilbert got out his phone, pressed a couple of buttons and raised it to his ear. There followed a quick conversation in German, then he hung up. 'He's on his way.' 'Thank you Gilbert. Please take a seat in the waiting room. Do you have something to do?' 'Yeah,' he replied, gesturing to a laptop case 'work stuff.' Arthur made a mental note that it was a good sign that Gilbert had been able to carry on work in spite of everything.

A moment later, Gilbert's brother arrived. Arthur came out into the waiting room to meet him. 'Hello. You must be Ludwig. I'm Arthur.' The tall, blond German shook Arthur's extended hand and replied 'It's good to meet you. Gilbert just told me on the phone that he found your session today very helpful.' Arthur flushed at the unexpected praise. 'Well, that's always good to hear. Now, if you'd just follow me…'

Once inside his office, Arthur gestured for Ludwig to take a seat in the chair recently vacated by Gilbert. 'So, I'd just like to talk to you a little bit about how Gilbert's coping. Do you think he's doing ok?' Ludwig shrugged. 'Well, just after it happened, he was in a really bad way. He moved in with me for a few weeks just to help him get back on his feet, and he would cry all the time and particularly at night. It was quite difficult for me to handle. What do you say to someone who thinks they're a murderer?' Arthur made a sympathetic noise and Ludwig continued. 'He was a bit happier when he moved back into his and Matthew's flat. He liked being around the memories, I think. But I was still worried about him – I didn't like to think of him being alone all the time. Francis and Antonio are good friends to him, but they're not great with emotions. And neither am I. Which is why I suggested – forced him to come to you. I understand he was a little out of sorts last week.' Arthur nodded. 'Yes, but that was only to be expected. He was much better this week. Thank you, Ludwig, you've been very helpful.' Ludwig nodded in acknowledgement and went out, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts.

'_Arthur, you need to go out. I know it's hard for you but it's been weeks.' Why, why, why? Why should I go out, why should I do anything without him? He was my life, and without him I am dead._

He clenched his fists so that his nails dug into his palms, the sharp pain bringing him up sharply back to the present. He was annoyed at having broken his promise to himself, his promise not to think about the past. He heard the two brothers talking and the door clicking shut behind them. He looked at his notes from the meeting. He had an awful lot of typing to do when he got home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Hello readers, and thank you for following and reviewing! **__**I hope you're enjoying the story. Just a quick note, in case there's any confusion – Alfred and Matthew are not brothers in this fic. They didn't know each other or anything like that. Enjoy the new chapter! (WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH FLASHBACK!)**

…..

Arthur got home very late on Friday night. The trains had been absolutely up the spout, leaving him waiting on a packed tube for a full hour and causing him to miss two trains that would have got him home. Finally, at 8pm, three hours after leaving work, he limped up the two flights of stairs to his flat, dragged himself over the threshold and immediately went to the kitchen for a restorative cup of tea. As he reached up to the top cupboard to retrieve the teabags, he caught sight of the calendar. It was 11th July. All day, he had had a nagging feeling that today was somehow special. Now, suddenly, he remembered why. How could he have forgotten? Today marked the second anniversary of Alfred's death. He stopped, stock-still. The forgotten box of teabags fell from his hand to the floor, scattering the little papery sacks everywhere. He raised his hands to his face, contorting with the pain of the great, monstrous, devastated wail that was rising within him. The little insidious voice inside his head whispered to him. _What are you doing, whimpering like a slapped child? Pull yourself together and stop blubbing_. _Just forget him._ For once, Arthur ignored it. 'If I can't remember him now,' he asked himself 'when can I?' He knew from telling others that one of the most important things about getting over a loss was to feel comfortable with the memories.

He didn't remember walking to the couch, but found himself sitting there. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to relive the worst day of his life. He curled in a ball and closed his eyes. If he lay just so, it felt like Alfred's arms were still around him.

_They were walking along a grassy stretch of riverbank, holding hands and chatting like they always did. It was a perfect early summer Saturday. Neither of them had to be anywhere, do anything. They both loved that sort of day; the sort that existed only to be filled with the joy of each other's company. Arthur was lugging a heavy picnic basket that they had had great fun stocking at the local supermarket. Alfred, as usual, had got away with carrying nothing. Suddenly, he stopped, deftly grabbing Arthur's wrist and twirling him round to face him. He gave him a playful kiss, causing Arthur to turn an alarming shade of red. 'Alfred!' he hissed, nervously looking around, 'you know you can't do that sort of thing in public. There are PEOPLE here!' Alfred rolled his eyes. 'And what are they going to do? Lock us up? Artie, sweetie, you're so paranoid!' Arthur smiled. 'It's alright, love. I forgive you.' Alfred put his hand over his heart in a parody of relief. 'Oh, thank God! Princess Arthur forgives me!' Arthur punched him on the arm then reached for his hand again. They continued walking together, listening to the birds that sounded just as happy as they were to be alive on such a beautiful day._

_As they turned a corner, they heard a panicked cry. It came from a woman, standing at the edge of the river, at the part where it rushed at merciless speed through rocks and hidden depths. A few metres out, a little girl was struggling to stay afloat, but she was fighting a losing battle. Each time she went under, she stayed there a little longer before resurfacing. She was running out of strength. Without a word, Alfred released a stunned Arthur and sprinted for the river, clearly preparing to jump in. Arthur dropped the picnic basket and hurried after him. He could see the sandy-blond head bobbing up and down, getting steadily closer to the stricken girl. Her mother raised her arms in a gesture of relief as she saw Alfred clasp a strong arm around her daughter's waist and begin swimming to shore. Arthur's heart leapt in his chest. He felt himself swelling with pride as he watched his heroic boyfriend out there, saving a life. _

_But then, just as Alfred released the girl, who promptly began a clumsy front crawl to the nearby bank, a great surge of water sent him spiralling away along the river. Arthur screamed as he watched him go under and began counting the seconds. The girl was now out of the water but her mother wasn't hugging or kissing or even looking at her. She was frantically dialling a number on her phone, clearly summoning help. And Alfred hadn't resurfaced after a full minute. It was only hours later, sitting in a cold police station with a cup of lukewarm tea placed in front of him by a well-meaning sergeant, that Arthur's frantic emotions of earlier wore off and the truth revealed itself to him in all its horrific clarity. Alfred was dead._

For the first time in months, Arthur didn't try to suppress his emotions. He curled into a foetal position and cried until he fell asleep on the couch, knowing that no Alfred would have draped an American flag blanket over him when he woke.

…..

The Following Tuesday…

Arthur arrived at work at his usual time, nervous about his third appointment with the volatile Gilbert. He had sent an email at the weekend, asking him to bring some special pictures of him and Matthew together. Perhaps a little optimistically, he was expecting the session to run as smoothly as it had the previous week, as long as Gilbert didn't react to the picture task the way he had done to the first time with Kumajirou.

So he was rather surprised when Gilbert came in and immediately announced that he hadn't brought any pictures. Arthur knew to tread carefully as he asked after the reason for this. 'Gilbert is there a particular reason why you've decided not to bring them. I know you didn't forget, so is it too painful for you just now?' Gilbert bit his lip, fiddling with the cuffs of his tartan shirt. 'Well, doctor…' he began. Arthur interrupted. 'I'm not a doctor. And you can call me Arthur.' 'Well, my brother said I should… show you this instead.' Abruptly, he pulled up his sleeves, revealing a horrible mass of recently-done cuts all the way up to his elbows.

Arthur couldn't stop himself from gasping. It wasn't the first time he had been confronted with the ugly reality of self-harm.

'_My God! Alfred, when did you do these? Why?' 'I used to be fat. People used to tease me for it. They used to call me ugly. I didn't know what to do. So I did this.' 'My love, my darling, my beautiful, beautiful Alfred! I don't care if you're so fat you fill three rooms. I wouldn't care if you were the ugliest man on Earth. I would love you just as much as I do now. Do you hear me? I will always love you, come what may.'_

Arthur shut his eyes for a second, gathering his thoughts. 'Gilbert,' he said gently 'this is because you feel guilty, isn't it? You feel bad about what happened. You can't allow yourself to be happy.' Gilbert looked at him like he was a mind reader. 'Yes,' he began, haltingly. 'I just feel so terrible whenever I smile or laugh or watch TV. I feel like I should be dead as well as – no, instead of – Matthew. My beautiful Mattie.' Arthur almost placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but stopped himself just in time. Offering sympathy was one thing, touching patients was another. He was getting too emotionally involved, probably because Gilbert's experiences were so eerily similar to his own.

Taking care to maintain an emotional distance, he quizzed Gilbert about his cutting habits. He found that it happened at least twice a day, more if he had allowed himself to have a good time. Arthur found the image of a lonely Gilbert sitting on his half-empty bed with a knife a profoundly disturbing one. The hour ended all too quickly, and Arthur realised that it was time to ask a question that had been making him nervous for the whole session. 'Gilbert,' he said, as his patient prepared to leave, 'I'm very pleased with the progress you're making, but I think that we need to meet more than once a week. However, my appointments are all full up, so if you want to meet more often, it'll have to be somewhere else. We could go to your flat, or mine, or somewhere public like the park. What do you think?' The albino thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. 'Ok. My flat then. I'll email you the address. Is Thursday, six o'clock good for you?' Arthur nodded his assent. 'See you there then. But be warned – it's a bit of a mess.' 'Oh, don't worry about that,' Arthur said breezily. 'Take care then!' 'Bye doc-Arthur!' came the reply, as Gilbert shut the door with a resounding click, leaving Arthur to his thoughts until the arrival of the next patient.


	4. Chapter 4

As he stood outside Gilbert's door, Arthur looked at his watch again to make sure that he wasn't too early, checked the address he had copied down from the email to make sure that he hadn't done something stupid like taken the lift to the wrong floor and brushed at imaginary wrinkles in his clothes. He didn't know why he felt nervous. It wasn't the first time he had visited a patient at their home, so there was no reason for the way his hand shook as he raised it to the doorbell and rang it.

After a moment, he heard footsteps in the hallway, and then the door creaked open. Gilbert seemed pleased to see him. 'Thanks for coming today,' he said with a smile. 'I hope it's not too inconvenient for you.' 'Oh, no.' Arthur reassured him quickly, remembering that it was important for his patients never to feel like they were burdening him. 'It's perfectly fine.' Gilbert continued to talk as he led him to the living room. 'If you want to do the picture thing today, I've got loads in here. I could show them to you.' Arthur was glad. He had intended to do the picture activity on their next formal appointment, but it was a good sign that Gilbert was recovering some of his former confidence.

The living room was small but pleasant, with a cosy-looking red sofa and coffee table strewn with magazines, the TV placed in a far corner. On closer inspection, Arthur saw that all the magazines were in fact holiday brochures. Gilbert followed his gaze. 'Work,' he explained 'I do the itineraries for all those cruises and that.' Arthur was interested. 'So, do you work from home then?' 'Not usually, but I've kind of started to since… yeah. It's not really the sort of job you have to do in the office anyway.' His voice, which had begun to take on a mournful edge, brightened up suddenly as he remembered the reason he had come into the room. 'Oh yeah! The pictures!'

He led Arthur to a small shelf where several photo frames were clustered, and Arthur got his first glimpse of Matthew. He was much as he had imagined him – short, slim and rather shy-looking. Gilbert picked up one of the frames, which he had clearly taken himself. It showed him beaming at the camera and doing a V-sign, while an awkward-looking Matthew hugged himself, smiling shyly. 'That's from our first date,' he explained. 'We went to a concert. I took that while we were queuing to get in.' Arthur smiled, encouraging him to carry on. Setting down the frame, Gilbert picked up a larger one that showed the two of them dressed in suits, standing side-by-side. 'That one's from my friend Antonio's wedding. Some weird Italian guy. Always in a bad mood. Don't know what he sees in him, really. Anyway, this is one of the last I have of him. The wedding was about six months ago.' He tailed off, leaving Arthur to do the maths. Unwilling to interrupt this very cathartic activity, but aware of the fact that time was ticking Arthur said 'Gilbert, do you think you could show me your favourite picture of you two?' Gilbert nodded and reached for a glittery, red, heart-shaped frame. 'Valentine's present,' he muttered, blushing slightly. Arthur looked at the photo. In it, the pair were sitting on a beach, Matthew cuddling Kumajirou. Gilbert had obviously also taken this one himself, but his visible arm was around Matthew's narrow shoulders. They were not looking at the camera, but at each other, and Arthur felt a lump in his throat as he saw the adoration on Gilbert's face, both in the photo and in real life as he stood, lost in his memories. 'This is from the day I won Kumajirou,' he said. 'Just before we went home, Matthew insisted on going to beach to watch the sunset. Ended up getting the bear covered in sand. We had to throw him straight into the wash when we got back.'

A few minutes later, when Gilbert was sprawled out on the couch and Arthur was perched uncomfortably on a high stool dragged in from the kitchen, Arthur decided that it would be a good time to broach what was always one of the most difficult subjects – how the couples had first met, what it had been like at the start of their relationship, when they truly thought that they would be together forever. 'Gilbert' he began, a little apprehensively. 'I wonder... Would you mind telling me how you and Matthew met?' Gilbert nodded, 'Yeah, ok.' He manoeuvred himself into a sitting position and leaned forward, clasping his hands under his chin in the classic storytelling pose.

'Well, we were at university together, but we weren't in the same classes – I was doing Geography with Tourism Studies and he was doing Music. He ended up a music therapist – he was just like that. So caring, so selfless, always there for others…' He stopped himself. 'Anyway, so we didn't have anything to do with each other for the first year and then at the start of our second one, he set up a Nature Club, going for walks and things like that. It was pretty popular and there was always a big crowd, but one day it was cold and looked like it was going to rain. My friends all said they wouldn't go because of the weather but I knew that Matthew would turn up regardless, would go on his own if he had to, he loved being outside that much. I felt a bit bad for him being alone, so I came along. I was the only one, like I thought, but it wasn't awkward. We just clicked. We had so much to talk about. The thing about Matthew was that he didn't have a list of interests the way some people do. He liked to say that everything could be interesting if it was told in the right way. In the end, it did rain, like everyone had said, but we just laughed and hid under some trees for an hour until it stopped. After that, we spent as much time together as we possibly could.'

Arthur, as usual, had been making notes. He looked up for a moment to ask 'So when did you become… established? When did you move in together?' Gilbert grinned, clearly happy to have the chance to talk about Matthew. 'We knew from the start that it was the real thing. The first thing we did after graduation was find a flat together. Some people are just like that, I guess. We were decisive. We were certain.' Arthur peered surreptitiously at his watch and was startled to find that it had been an hour. The huge pile of paperwork dumped on his desk at home loomed large in his mind. 'Gilbert, I'm very satisfied with what we've got through today, but I'm afraid we'll have to finish up for now.' Gilbert nodded, but looked disappointed. On impulse, Arthur handed him a card with his number printed on it. 'Here. Call me if you ever feel you really need to talk to me.' Gilbert's smile returned. 'Thanks! I'll show you out.'

On the train home, Arthur reflected on the evening's events. Gilbert had seemed happy to talk about Matthew, but maybe he had been a little _too _happy, which was where the danger lay. Arthur knew that if this was the case, Gilbert would punish himself that night. His thoughts turned to Kiku, the quiet Japanese counsellor who'd helped him through his horrendous experience and inspired him to become one himself. He remembered endless hours spent in the office, talking about everything to do with him and Alfred. He'd done the thing with the 'special object' – in this case, the phone that Alfred had lost at the library where Arthur had been working. Arthur had put it in lost property until the panicked American returned for it. It was how they met.

'_Umm… Hey this is kind of embarrassing but I like… lost my phone. It's black, touchscreen and the wallpaper is the McDonald's logo. Has it been handed in?' 'Oh yes, I picked it up myself. Here you go.' 'Oh, but there's one thing still missing!' 'Which is?' 'Your number.'_

Arthur winced. He couldn't believe he'd fallen for such a pathetic chat-up line, but the truth was that he was happy he had. He'd told the story to Kiku, laughing through his tears, and Kiku had given his small, quiet smile. Arthur realised that the counselling he received saved his life, brought him back from not wanting to live without Alfred and making him realise that it was his duty to live his life for both of them. That was the reason why, just under a year after Alfred died, he found himself going to the local university to begin a year-long course in bereavement counselling. As the train pulled into his stop, he slung his bag over his shoulder, stepped onto the platform and headed for the station exit.

Three nights later, after a dull Saturday spent catching up with work and enjoying the single life by eating a whole pizza all by himself, he climbed into his half of the bed, allowing his hand to linger for a tiny moment on Alfred's cold, undented pillow. Tired by a long week, he was soon asleep. At 3am, he was jerked awake by his phone ringing. He struggled to raise himself onto his elbows, half-blinded by the incandescently bright screen and made a clumsy grab for it. He pressed the answer button and raised it to his ear, still half-asleep. 'Arthur, Arthur, it's me, Gilbert!' came a panicked voice. Arthur sat bolt upright, suddenly fully alert. 'Gilbert, what is it? What's wrong?' There was muffled sobbing for a moment and then his voice came again 'I'm really scared. I've got the knife but I don't want to hurt myself again because I know I'll go too far if I do. Please come, please! I can't be alone!'

Cursing, Arthur jumped out of bed, grabbed the first items of clothing he could find. He dressed in about thirty seconds, grabbed his keys and ran outside. He didn't have a car and the trains had all stopped running for the night, so his only hope was a night bus. Sitting on the bottom deck, way at the back, he watched the dark streets slip by and silently counted down the number of stops until Gilbert's. As soon as the bus arrived, he sprinted round the corner and into the block of flats. He ran upstairs and hammered on the door. Gilbert answered it. The knife was nowhere to be seen, and he seemed to have managed to resist making any more cuts, but his face was smeared with tears and his red eyes were rimmed with more red. 'Gilbert…' Arthur began once they were inside, at a loss for what to say. 'What happened?' Without a word, Gilbert turned down the hall, gesturing for Arthur to follow him.

Once they were on the couch, Gilbert burst into tears even more violent than those he had shed at their first meeting, ones that went through his whole body and seemed to cause him physical pain with their power. 'Why were you so scared about hurting yourself worse than before?' Arthur asked gently. Gilbert looked bleakly at him and began to speak, his words punctuated by gasps of anguish as he struggled to compose himself. 'It would have been Matthew's birthday today and I just remembered how we were planning to do something extra-awesome, like the Inca Trail or something and I realised that that won't happen. It will never, ever happen. He's dead and always will be.' He stopped for a moment, wailing in the panicked way of a child who is badly hurt and doesn't know what happened. 'We were supposed to be together for our whole lives, but instead I have to live my life without him. How? He was part of me, and I was part of him. How can I be me when he was all I was?'

Arthur was so overcome by this expression of raw emotion that on impulse he put his arms round Gilbert in an almost maternal fashion, letting him cry. 'You can't understand. How can you understand unless you've lost someone?' Arthur hugged him tighter. 'I do understand, I do. I've lost someone too. I had a wonderful boyfriend. His name was Alfred. He was amazing, selfless, always so kind. He died a hero, saving someone, but he's not around to be my hero anymore.' 'Yes,' came the reply 'Maybe you do understand what it's like to lose someone, but not what it's like to kill them.' Arthur had no answer for that, so he said nothing. The two remained in silence for quite some time, each drawing comfort from the other's presence but lost in sorrow nonetheless. Eventually, Gilbert spoke again. 'Please stay here,' he whispered plaintively, 'I'm scared. I don't want to be left alone.' Arthur soothingly stroked the white hair. 'I'll stay,' he whispered back. 'I'll stay as long as you need me.'


	5. Chapter 5

The following morning, Arthur woke up on Gilbert's couch, surprised to find that he had managed to fall asleep. The albino was nowhere to be seen but tuneless singing and clattering plates could be heard from the kitchen. He had no idea what time it was but the sunlight illuminating the room indicated that it was rather later than he usually got up. He thought for a moment about the night's events, then realising that he would be better off talking to Gilbert himself, got up and followed the noise until he found the kitchen.

He poked his head around the door before sidling in. 'Gilbert?' He looked up. 'Oh, you're awake. I hope you like pancakes. If you don't, you will – Matthew used to make these all the time. I called him the Pancake King!' Arthur was surprised, though not unpleasantly, at how quickly Gilbert appeared to have recovered. 'Gilbert,' he repeated, 'I don't want to spoil your good mood, but I think we need to discuss what happened last night. Believe it or not, it's a good sign.' Gilbert shovelled a stack of pancakes onto two plates and sat down at the small kitchen table, gesturing for Arthur to do the same and pushing one of the plates towards him. Having done this, he gave Arthur an inquisitive look, wanting to hear the rest. 'Why do you think it's good?' A note of anger had crept into his voice, and Arthur realised that his chirpy bravado was a cover for his embarrassment 'I was stupid, cowardly, pathetic. I shouldn't have called you. I didn't need help.'

'No, Gilbert. You did the right thing, and it was brave of you to recognise the fact that you did in fact need help. When I said it was good, I meant that – how to explain this?- I meant that coming to the realisation, no matter how painful it may be, that Matthew is gone, is a sign that you're slowly beginning to move on. For some people, this moment never comes, and they live out their lives in a miserable limbo. For others, it only comes after years and years, when they are near death themselves. Some people resist it, because they feel they don't deserve life, that they don't deserve happiness. You were resisting, and that was very damaging. It was the reason you were cutting yourself, the reason you so very nearly did something worse. So my question for you is why you were resisting. Was it because of the fact you blame yourself?'

Gilbert looked up from his plate. He was crying again, but silently, biting his lip and staring off into the distance. 'Yes, I suppose it was,' he said at length. 'After you left on Thursday, I couldn't stop thinking about Mattie, and what it was like having him around. After he died, the police interviewed me about what happened. I thought I would be punished. I hoped I would, but they couldn't charge me with anything. I wasn't drunk, I wasn't speeding, I didn't go through a red light. Just a tragic accident, they said.'

Arthur knew what was coming next. 'You were angry that he was dead. You had no-one to blame, so you blamed yourself even though that wasn't fair. Gilbert, you wouldn't believe how often people have accidents because they're arguing in the car. It's not some terrible crime. It was a tragedy, but nothing more than that. You need to realise that sometimes you really can't blame anybody. Sometimes, these things just happen. When Alfred died, I found myself wishing that he'd never jumped into the river, that he'd just left the girl to drown. But it wasn't her fault that she fell in and it wasn't her fault that Alfred saved her. In the end, I had to accept that I couldn't pin the blame on anyone. All I could do was be glad he was a hero and carry on living. It took me a while to realise that, and I still miss him every day, and I still cry sometimes, and I still wish he was still here, but I know that the best way to honour his life is to live my own.'

He looked around the room as he waited for Gilbert's reaction. It was a strange place to be talking about such weighty things, over cold pancakes and congealing maple syrup, over a red-and-white checked tablecloth. Eventually, Gilbert spoke, absently tracing the lines of the tablecloth with his finger. 'You're right; I know it wasn't my fault. I guess I just feel so bad because Mattie was so shy and quiet and a bit short. I was always trying to protect him, but I couldn't that time. Thank you. Thank you so much. You've saved my life, you really have.'

It was then that Arthur saw the clock and realised that it was one in the afternoon. So did Gilbert. 'Damn! I was supposed to be doing work today! My deadline's tomorrow!' 'Me too.' Arthur replied grimly. They both stood up, minds already busy with their respective tasks. 'See you on Tuesday!' Gilbert called out to him as he left.

…

On Tuesday, Arthur arrived at work a full hour early. Katyusha wasn't there yet, so he had the place to himself. He'd come so early because he needed time to think. He didn't really see how he could do any more for Gilbert, who seemed to have finally arrived at a turning point. This was the point where he usually let his patients go, when they no longer needed him, but for some reason he felt sad at the idea of never seeing Gilbert again. He shook his head angrily. He wasn't supposed to maintain contact with his patients once he had finished with them and he wasn't supposed to want to either. What was wrong with him today? What had been wrong with him since Sunday, when he'd been in a great mood all the way home because of all the time he'd got to spend with Gilbert?

At nine o'clock, he heard Katyusha humming to herself as she let herself in, then a rustling as she stowed her plastic lunch bag under her desk. He heard her pause as she noticed the narrow shaft of light coming from under his door. She pushed it open gently, remarking 'You're here early. Was your watch fast?' Arthur laughed. 'No, no. I just needed some time to think. Gilbert's ready to go. He doesn't need my help anymore, but for some reason I'm sad at the thought of not seeing him.' Katyusha digested this for a moment, then said, 'Well, you could still meet as friends, couldn't you? I mean, if he sees you as a friend.' Arthur nodded. He hadn't even thought of that. He hadn't given very much thought to relationships of any kind since Alfred's death. When he surfaced from his daydream, Katyusha had returned to her desk and it was almost time for Gilbert's appointment.

The familiar beep came as the door opened, but to Arthur's surprise, it was not Gilbert who walked into the room, but Ludwig. 'Hello Ludwig,' he said, trying not to sound disappointed. 'Has something happened to Gilbert?' Ludwig smiled. 'No, he's here, out in the waiting room, but I wanted to say something to you myself. I just want to thank you for helping him so much. You've worked miracles. He's told me that you truly saved his life that night in a way that I never could. You have a real gift for this. Thank you.' He went out before Arthur could reply and Gilbert immediately entered before he could properly gather his thoughts. He felt his heart pounding as he watched the albino take his accustomed seat.

'Gilbert,' he said, cursing his nerves. 'You've done very well, and I don't think there's any further need for us to continue our meetings. I think you're recovered. I think you're ready to carry on with your life.' Gilbert looked at him, smiling widely. 'However,' Arthur continued, 'maybe I'm wrong, but I'd like to think that we've… become quite good friends recently. Would you agree?' Gilbert nodded, more to himself than to Arthur. 'You know, I think we have. I know Ludwig's already been in and basically said everything I wanted to, but I think you're kind of awesome. I think it would also be pretty awesome if we could hang out sometime. I mean, you've already slept over at my place, so we've been doing it all in the wrong order.' Arthur laughed softly. 'Yes, I hadn't thought of it that way, but I suppose you're right!' Gilbert continued as if he hadn't heard. 'I know this really awesome little waffle place. How about Saturday, seven o'clock?' Arthur was overwhelmed at how well his tentative overture had been received and agreed enthusiastically.

'Now,' he said to himself once the fully-cured Gilbert had left, 'all I need to do is last until Saturday.'

…

'It's not a date,' Arthur muttered to himself as he ironed his favourite shirt. 'It's not a date,' he repeated as he debated whether to wear his black blazer or his blue one. 'It's not a date,' he said as he spiked up his hair with saccharinely sweet gel. 'It is,' he said as he walked to the bus stop, hoping that his new style would stay in place, 'most absolutely, definitely not a date.' When he arrived at the waffle house, dead on seven, he checked his reflection in the front window, reminded himself that it wasn't a date, and walked in.

'Do you have a reservation?' asked the sullen Dutch waiter with an alarming scar. 'Umm… I'm waiting for someone,' Arthur replied uncertainly, withering under the man's glare and looking around for Gilbert. Just then, the door was pushed open and a blast of cold air rushed in. Arthur turned round and saw Gilbert there, desperately trying to fix his hair, which clearly had not fared as well as Arthur's. 'Hi,' he said nervously as Gilbert walked over. The albino returned his greeting with an unexpected hug and then swaggered over to the Dutchman, whose facial expression had not changed since Arthur walked in. 'Table for two, my good man. Reserved under the name of 'Captain Awesome.'' 'So it was you,' the waiter grumbled, not at all amused by Gilbert's immature little joke. Arthur giggled and then stopped himself, remembering just in time that it wasn't a date. The waiter handed over two menus and pointed in the direction of an elegant little table.

As they sat down, Gilbert gestured to the waiter with an almost invisible white eyebrow. 'He's always like that,' he whispered. 'But I forgive him because the waffles are so awesome, even if it's his sister who makes them. He knows me. I always give a stupid name when I book. I think he secretly likes it.' He winked, and then laughed. Arthur had never noticed how cute his laugh sounded, a sort of 'kesesesese' sound. Or the way his whole face screwed up with mirth, as though everything he laughed at was the funniest thing ever. Arthur forced himself to look down at the menu. 'The strawberry ones with chocolate sauce look nice,' he remarked. Gilbert rolled his eyes at him. 'You on a diet or something? Here, I'll order for both of us!' He raised his arm and waved at the waiter, who came over. Gilbert immediately rattled off his request: 'I'll have the double chocolate waffles with the toffee sauce, marshmallows and Jelly Tots. Oh, and a vanilla milkshake with a straw. He'll have the same.'

As soon as the waiter had left, Arthur raised an eyebrow at Gilbert. 'Really? A milkshake with a straw? I thought we were serious adults. And how many extras do you really need?' Gilbert shrugged ruefully. 'I can't help myself,' he admitted. 'Mattie made me into a sugar addict. All that maple syrup. He said it tasted like home.' Arthur was intrigued. 'So he was Canadian then?' Gilbert nodded. 'Interesting,' Arthur mused. 'Alfred was American. A bit stereotypical actually. I once asked him why he moved to England if he loved America so much. He just winked and said he was bringing the place down from the inside. I never did find out the real reason,' he concluded sadly. Gilbert made a sympathetic sound and seemed about to say something, but just then, their waffles arrived. Arthur, who didn't have much of a sweet tooth, only managed half of his but the rest was polished off by an eager Gilbert who had no trouble in consuming his own.

They chatted as they ate and when they finished, Gilbert suggested that they go to the local pub. Arthur was uncertain. 'I have a pretty low alcohol tolerance. I'd better not.' But Gilbert pleaded with him until he gave in and soon they found themselves sipping beer served by a loud Danish blond who seemed pretty drunk himself. Arthur had promised himself he'd only have one, but when a second pint appeared in front of him, it seemed rude to refuse…

'An' then… an' then the unicorn appeared and it shaid 'let'sh go on an ADVENTURE!... God, I love thish song!' 'Arthur? There's no music playing. ARTHUR! Are you drunk already? You only had two.' Gilbert shook his head in exasperation. 'What a lightweight!' he muttered to himself. The two were walking to the tube station. 'Since you can't remember where you live, you'll have to come back to mine, I guess.' Arthur didn't appear to have heard and was now singing the national anthem extremely loudly, replacing the word 'queen' with 'flying mint bunny'. He grabbed Gilbert's arm and pointed at a lamppost. 'Hey Gil, look at that shtar!' 'That's not a star! It's a lamppost! For God's sake, when you said you got drunk easily I thought you meant at least five beers!'

Once they got back to Gilbert's flat, Arthur collapsed on the couch and raised an imaginary glass. 'To a wonderful date – oh wait, it'sh not a date!' He laughed to himself and then abruptly fell asleep. Gilbert rolled his eyes, and then went to fetch a blanket to cover him over. It looked like Arthur would be waking up on Gilbert's couch for the second Sunday in a row, albeit in very different circumstances.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Hello dear readers! This is going to be the last chapter, unfortunately, but I can assure you that there is finally going to be a little bit of PrUK. I hope that you've enjoyed reading the story and that the ending is to your satisfaction! **

**PS: As I was writing this, I was listening to 'Che Faro Senza Euridice' and it just seemed to fit so well. It's from the opera of Orpheus and Eurydice, and it's absolutely beautiful – if you haven't heard it, I recommend it!**

…

When Arthur woke the next morning, his mind was a blur. His last conscious memory was of being in a pub and having an ill-advised second drink, but he had a strong feeling that he might have embarrassed himself. Looking around, he realised that he seemed to have passed out, fully dressed, on Gilbert's couch. What was more, he had the worst headache he'd had in a long time. Praying that he hadn't done anything stupid, he slowly stood up, trying to ignore the pain in his skull, and went to look for his host.

'Gilbert,' he said quietly, wary of the fact that Gilbert might be similarly afflicted, 'where are you?' 'In here,' came the reply, from behind a door that led to a room Arthur had never been inside 'you can come in.' Arthur pushed open the door and saw Gilbert there, sitting cross-legged on his bed. He had a fat canary perched on his outstretched finger and was stroking it with his other hand. 'Morning, Artie,' he said with a cheeky wink. Arthur winced at the nickname, so achingly familiar from when Alfred used to use it. 'Um, hey Gilbert,' he began awkwardly. 'I hope I didn't do anything too terrible last night.' Gilbert laughed and tickled the small bird. 'By the way, this is Gilbird.' he said of his pet. 'And no, you didn't kill anyone in a drunken rage… Although you _did _say something about a 'wonderful date' just before you passed out.' He said this last part slowly, in order to maximise Arthur's discomfort. Arthur blushed bright red. 'Oh God, I didn't, did I? I mean, I hardly knew what I was saying and…' Gilbert shushed him, getting up to put the bird back into its cage.

'It's ok,' he said. 'We all say stupid things when we're drunk. And it was really nice to go out last night – I haven't done anything social in such a long time. I just don't get on with my friends the same way I used to. They don't really understand what it's like for me, not in the way that you do.' Arthur smiled sympathetically, perching on the edge of the bed. 'You know, I was just thinking as I got ready yesterday about how this is literally the first time in two years I've gone out with a friend, with anyone. After Alfred died, I just couldn't face being with anyone and after a while I just kind of got used to being on my own. Alfred loved to be around people so I guess I would just have been reminded way too strongly of him. He loved to party – I think you would have liked him.'

Neither of them really knew how to continue the conversation after that. After a long silence Gilbert spoke again. 'I know you're not, like, officially my counsellor anymore but… can I still ask you a question?' Arthur nodded. 'Of course.' 'Well, I haven't actually visited Matthew's grave since the funeral. Is that normal? Am I neglecting him or is it unhealthy or what?' Arthur paused to think for a moment. 'I don't think it's a question of normal. I feel like I should, but I haven't gone in ages. If you want to go, then do, but it's not for everyone.' he said at length. Gilbert absorbed this information, slowly tracing the spiral pattern on the bedspread with a pale finger. 'It's just that… I was kind of thinking of going today and I don't want to go alone. Ludwig would come if I asked but he doesn't really understand what it's like…' He tailed off. 'So you want me to come with you.' Arthur finished for him. Gilbert nodded in response. 'I'll come if you like. Is it the cemetery near that cinema, the one just off the main road? 'Yeah, that's it.' 'Well, in that case, is it ok if we visit Alfred too while we're there?' 'Sure,' said Gilbert. 'I'll make breakfast. We can go afterwards.' Just then, Arthur looked down at his rumpled clothes but stopped short of imagining what his hair must be like. 'Damn! I need to use your shower! And your ironing board!' Gilbert laughed at him. 'Bathroom's just across the hall. I'll leave the ironing board outside.' Arthur thanked him quickly and scuttled off to make himself presentable.

Once he had tidied up, he went to the kitchen, where he already knew Gilbert would be making some more of those excellent pancakes. Sure enough, when Arthur walked in, he saw him bent over the frying pan, carefully pushing at the edges of a half-cooked pancake to stop it from sticking. It reminded him of himself and the way he would unsuccessfully burn his way through about a month's worth of romantic dinners until he and Alfred just ended up getting pizza all the time. As soon as the pancake was ready, Gilbert put it on the plate with all the others and placed the pile on the table. 'That's the last of them,' he said, sounding pleased with himself, 'so let's eat!' Arthur took his seat, enjoying the divine taste of the pancakes. 'You're really good at cooking!' he said enthusiastically. Gilbert shrugged, although he seemed flattered by the compliment. 'Pancakes are the only thing I can make. That and weird German stuff that only my brother likes.' Arthur was still impressed. 'All I can do is tea.' Gilbert laughed at him again and they resumed eating.

As the pile of pancakes dwindled, their thoughts inevitably turned to their sad plans for the day. Arthur felt weirdly nervous, like Alfred would somehow judge him for never coming to see him. He felt as though he shouldn't be going at all, like he had missed his chance to visit and now too long had gone by. He pictured himself going every week for years, until he was old, until the shiny marble gravestone turned dull and the gilt carving was worn smooth, until his own name was inscribed, fresh and bright, below Alfred's fading one. He hadn't given any thought to the business of 'finding someone else' and wasn't sure he wanted to. It frightened him and he hated himself for thinking that someone might ever be able to replace Alfred. So why could he suddenly imagine himself eating pancakes with Gilbert every morning, talking about everything or nothing or not at all? What was wrong with him?

Once the final pancake had been eaten and the last of the maple syrup mopped up, Gilbert stood to clear the table. Arthur watched him idly. Normally, he would have offered to help but today he was too deeply absorbed in his thoughts. So was Gilbert, judging by how slow and listless his movements were. Eventually, Gilbert turned to him. 'Shall we go then?' There was a slight tremor in his voice, and Arthur found himself wanting to hold his hand to reassure him. _Where the hell did that come from? _he berated himself furiously. Wordlessly, he got up and picked up his blazer from the back of his chair. 'I'm ready when you are.' As he said this, he remembered that he had left his shoes in the bathroom and ran to get them. When he came back, Gilbert was waiting by the door. Silently, the two of them headed out.

It was sunny, so they decided to walk. They chatted about stupid things like sport and films, neither one wanting to mention their destination as they almost unconsciously traced the route. It was only when they were approaching the gates that Gilbert finally said, very softly, 'Arthur, I don't want to seem insensitive, but could we go to Mattie first? It's not that I want to get it over with, just…' Arthur raised a hand to silence him. 'It's fine. I understand.' He shook off the sudden urge to put his arm around him and they lapsed into silence again as they entered the cemetery and Gilbert led them to Matthew's grave.

Once they got there, Arthur stepped back, allowing Gilbert space to do whatever it was one did at graves. Arthur couldn't remember. The last time he'd come here, it had been for the funeral, a swarm of people in black, all casting little glances at him. He remembered overhearing the murmured conversations of people trying to outdo each other in the sympathy stakes: '…very hard for him of course… so brave… I'm just so glad I still have… at least he was a hero, we'll always have that… such a lovely couple, it's just awful…' He had never visited on his own, he realised. He looked cautiously up at Gilbert, not wanting to disturb his thoughts. He was standing silently, hands clasped in front of him, his face sad but his eyes resolutely dry. Arthur read the stone. It was a simple inscription: _Matthew Williams, aged 25. Loved by Gilbert and all who knew him. _After a few minutes, Gilbert straightened up, said something that Arthur didn't catch and stepped away. He took a deep breath, clearly trying to compose himself. 'Do you want to see Alfred now?' Arthur nodded, and they began to walk away.

Arthur knew exactly where Alfred was and he remembered every detail of his grave, but it was still a surprise to see it again, so concrete and real – rather ironic, since it symbolised the event which had destroyed his life. He went right up to it, reading what was written there, even though he could have recited it in his sleep. _Alfred F. Jones, aged 23. A true hero, for Arthur and many others. _He had had a sort of plan to just stand there for a minute or two, but instead he found himself desperately wanting to talk to Alfred, to tell him everything he'd kept hidden for so long, so long.

'Hey love,' he began tentatively. 'I know I haven't been coming as often as I should and I'm sorry. I just want you to know that I miss you, that I still love you as much as I ever did and I ever will. I'm so proud of you, the way you were a hero. I was angry for a while, but now I know you wouldn't have had it any other way. I really struggled at first but I had this therapist and he helped me so much. He helped me see that there could be life without you. He inspired me, so I became a bereavement counsellor too. I help people like me, people who've lost their true love. I'll never be a hero in the way you are but I'll try, I'll try. Alfred, I'm so confused!' He felt himself beginning to cry and made no move to resist the tears that came surging down his cheeks. 'I'm confused because I don't want to live without you but if I found someone else it would be like I was replacing you and I don't know what I should do because I can't ask you. I wish so much that you were still here. Two years and I still wake up every morning and wonder why you're not there. Two years and I still pick up your favourite foods in the shop. Two years and I still can't believe that I'll never see you again. I would give everything I have to have you back for a single moment, to hold your hand, to kiss you, to tell you I love you. I'm trying to live without you, I really am, but I can't, I just can't.'

He buried his face in his hands, his whole body shaking with silent sobs. 'It's not fair!' he wailed savagely. 'There are evil people in this world, truly evil, and yet it's my Alfred who gets taken away! Why? WHY?' Gilbert slowly came up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. When Arthur didn't resist, he put his arms around him. 'I know, I know,' he whispered soothingly. 'My Mattie got taken away too. It's not right, but it happens.' He stroked Arthur's hair, still damp from his earlier shower. 'You _are _a hero,' he said gently. 'That night when I called you, I was about to kill myself. You saved me and you've saved others too. I didn't know Alfred but I know he'd be proud of you. Anyone would. You didn't know Mattie, but let me tell you, he'd be so happy that you saved my life. If we only dwelt on the injustices of the world, we would all go mad. You taught me that. You taught me that sometimes the only thing to do is accept that not everything can be perfect all the time and that we have to be grateful for every bit of happiness.'

Arthur's sobs had subsided to small hiccupping sounds but Gilbert continued to hold him tight as though he was shielding him from the destructive force of his sorrow. 'And maybe you didn't know this, but the whole time you were teaching me these things, you were teaching me something else. You were teaching me that it was ok to love Mattie and still love someone else. And I do love someone else. I love you.' Arthur abruptly stopped weeping and looked up at Gilbert, his vision clouded by tears. 'Do you?' he asked, not sure what to think. On the one hand, he realised that he loved him back, but on the other, he was scared of losing him like he had lost Alfred. Another death would destroy him, he knew that.

'I love you too,' he whispered, pressing his face against Gilbert's chest. 'But I don't want you to die. I'm scared. I'm scared that if I love anyone, they'll just end up like Alfred.' Gilbert released him and stepped back a tiny fraction so that they could look each other in the face. 'That's a risk we all have to take. That's a risk anyone who's ever had a relationship has had to take. What happened to you, to me, to us, was rare. We have to hope that we don't lose each other and if we do… well, you know what they say.' He took Arthur by the hand and together they began to walk towards the exit. Arthur wiped his eyes on his sleeve. 'What do they say?' he asked. Gilbert smiled at him, a smile full of love but also of sorrow, a smile of someone who had known true despair and yet managed to regain happiness. A smile that told him something that neither of them would have believed a few months before – that it was possible to love each other as much as they had loved Matthew or Alfred, and that there was nothing wrong with that. 'They say,' Gilbert replied at length, putting his arm around Arthur's waist, 'that it is better to have loved and lost…' 'than to never have loved at all.' Arthur finished for him as the two walked out of the wrought-iron gates, neither knowing nor caring where they went next, as long as they were together.


End file.
